


The AC era: a history

by Chestnut_Tears



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Dissociation, Heavy Angst, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Torture, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance is super dissociated all the time its his coping mechanism, Langst, Multilingual Lance, Sad Ending, You can read into the ships how you want but there's none stated, dunno how graphic you'd consider it so i put that warning on just in case, he doesn't die but ???, heh sorry (not), lance is not okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chestnut_Tears/pseuds/Chestnut_Tears
Summary: Time was blurry and indistinct, marked by pain and not hours. It seemed to Lance that his life was set into two eras now: BC and AC. Before Capture and After Capture. Like a history book. It made Lance laugh for reasons unknown which had not pleased Lotor who had been babbling on about something. Probably another betrayal and pain related thing. Lotor had always been very predictable.





	The AC era: a history

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on and inspired by this post by thesmollostbean on tumblr: https://thesmollostbean3.tumblr.com/post/160263820629/another-langst-post  
> You don't have to read it for this to make sense but i suggest you do coz their writing is great
> 
> And this also would not exist without significantly_birb on insta (birbs-of-bluejay on tumblr) who took it in turns with me to develop this story further and rip our hearts into pieces.
> 
> There's bits of Spanish in this (translations in the end notes) that I've written using what I've learnt in school so pls correct me if that's wrong.
> 
> Eh this is a mess, I hope it makes sense... Enjoy!

He’d been caught.

After finally making a difference, finally proving himself to be an irreplaceable member of the team… he’d been stupid enough to get caught.

Months. He’d spent months infiltrating the Galra Empire, furiously on translating every word he heard into, surprisingly, French in order to send it off to be translated by Pidge’s computer.

He couldn’t remember what Pidge’s face looked like now which kind of hurt.

Though he did remember wishing to see her face when she received his message “Found Matt, I’m going to get him out”. It would have been priceless.

But it was all good now, wasn’t it? They had Matt now, thanks to him. They didn’t need ol’ Lance. Who knows, maybe they’d rescue him anyway, just in case, because he knew so much confidential information. Not that he was going to let anything slip anyway, he was better than they thought.

He tried not to be bitter, he really did. Yet somehow the sour angry thoughts wrapped around him, squeezing out every drop of hope and making him hate Voltron so goddamn-

Break away.

He had to break away from those feelings, they’re just ones the Galra, _Lotor_ , wanted him to have and what they thought he had felt all the time he’d been fooling them.

Lance had a technique now, to push away from reality into a place where everything was normal. He’d practice his tenses, running through the lists he’d made back on Earth. He could almost picture them in his hands. And before he knew it, he’d be floating away.

Time was blurry and indistinct, marked by pain and not hours. It seemed to Lance that his life was set into two eras now: BC and AC. Before Capture and After Capture. Like a history book. It made Lance laugh for reasons unknown which had not pleased Lotor who had been babbling on about something. Probably another betrayal and pain related thing. Lotor had always been very predictable.

Some time ago, what felt like a very long time ago but couldn’t be that long because it was AC, Lance was sure they might have chopped off his leg. But he couldn’t remember it very well since it had happened in French and he was practising German right now.

Lance was proud of himself.

Somewhere deep down. He knew it was deep down because he was very deep down in his mind-like shell at the moment. (It turned out they had cut some of his leg off, but now they were cutting off more. Perhaps to add a flashy prosthetic.)

He was proud because he hadn’t done something… he’d never given the game away…

What game? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even pinpoint if it was a game in English, French, or that new blue language.

Lance didn’t think on the new blue language because it always stirred up painful memories that were so full of gaping holes Lance couldn’t make head nor tail of them.

It was nice to know there may be at least one thing he’d got right.

One thing out of the millions of wrong, wrong, mistake, stop, try again, I’ll give you one last chance, pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain pain.

If you say it enough times it stops being a word anymore and if it’s not a word, it doesn’t exist. After Lance has erased the words in all the languages then he can  f l o a t  a w a y…

Even if Lotor was the one who caused all the torture, he was always predictable. What he wanted Lance to do, how he reacted to what Lance did, and how he inflicted pain was always the same.

So in a way, Lance could trust Lotor.

He knew on some level that it was the most warped kind of unnatural trust he had ever encountered. But that level was so deep down the knowledge was stored in boxes alongside the colour blue.

Lotor had given him a new language to learn. At first the lines were written in bright red and Lance found that he couldn’t breathe when he saw them but he refused to remember why.

Predictably that made Lotor angry but he mostly let it go and made Lance learn the language in white off a black background. Much easier.

Easier to read but impossible to learn.

There was no foundation, no key word, and no translation at all. Lance just had to work out the language from reading it and listening to scratchy recordings.

Lotor said he’d be back with the druids if he didn’t pick it up quick.

Lance learnt the language.

Lotor he was impressed by Lance’s grammatical skill in working out an alien language with no help. Then he electrocuted Lance anyway.

He was tired.

So so tired.

Tired of waiting for something, for some kind of end he was almost sure didn’t exist.

It was difficult to think, thinking was difficult, no puede pensar.

Smug Lotor was always there which was nice… and horrible.

And then the door burst open.

#####

They’d finally found Lance.

After months of planning the attack, they’d got to the final moments but they didn’t have much time left, the Blade could only distract the mothership for so long.

Matt and Keith were racing, neck and neck, to reach the door Lance had to be behind. Shiro bringing up the rear behind Pidge and Hunk. The plan being the first two could tackle any guards while the other three could carry Lance to safety.

Nothing ever went to plan though.

Quietly mumbling in indistinguishable languages was Lance, glassy-eyed, clasped in the hold of Prince Lotor who smirked at the paladins, eyes brimming with triumph, as they stumbled through the busted door. Shiro, Pidge and Hunk arriving last, pushing past Matt and Keith with their momentum.

Shocked silence.

The pace of Lance’s panicked breathing hit their ears like a ringing explosion as he pressed himself into Lotor’s chest, switching between languages so fast it made them dizzy.

Lance flicked his eyes frantically between them, lingering on Matt, with no hint of recognition, only distrust.

All but Hunk managed to tear their eyes away from Lance’s broken figure when Lotor spoke.

“Why the surprise? Hmm? Jealous?” he said, voice dripping with smug delight.

The others sneered at Lotor but Hunk remained focussed on his best friend, determined not to fail him again. Racing to the only solution he can think of before the rest of the team get involved in battle of wits with Lotor, he stepped forward slightly.

“Hola Lance,” he whispered softly, gently, “me nombre es Hunk y te quiero mucho”

His pronunciation isn’t great but it’s the only thing he can remember Lance teaching him.

And it seems to do the trick, to touch something deep inside of Lance, because he lifts his head up, away from Lotor, to blink at Hunk.

There’s some clarity in his pain filled eyes, a last glinting fragment of shattered hope.

Lotor is left staring incredulously.

Summoning energy from some forgotten part and leaning towards Hunk, Lance cleared his throat.

“Hola” he rasped “quiero… salir”

Barely breathing, everyone stared and Hunk tried to continue despite not understanding what Lance said.

“¿Qué quieres?” Hunk soothed as gently and as kindly as physically possible with panic pumping through his veins.

Cringing, Lance realised Hunk didn’t understand him so he began to repeat his sentence but this time in Galran. But in the excitement of hearing Lance’s response they had forgotten the very real threat of Lotor.

Gripping Lance’s chin and spinning his face towards him, Lotor drawled out some question in Galran that made Lance freeze.

The speed at which Lance’s brain shut down in panic is so fast they would have missed it, if not for the pure terror rolling off Lance like smoke.

Clutching their weapons and increasingly aware of the time limit ticking ever closer, the paladins found themselves looking desperately at one another for help.

Keith shrugged, distress at being unable to stab the problem obvious.

“Something about being rude?”

Nodding and signalling he was on guard, Matt backed out of the door.

Lotor continued speaking in Galran, a short sentence that Keith clearly didn’t understand as he shook his head.

The effect of the words on Lance was instant. He folded in on himself with relief so strong his body shook. Tears streamed down his cheeks and he returned to mumbling, deaf to his surroundings.

Hunk found himself crying too.

“Well then, looks like big yellow has a small idea of what’s going on. Good for you.” Lotor laughed, watching the conflicting emotions rise to a boiling point in front of him.

Just as Keith snapped, Matt yelled a warning as he charged the guards appearing at the end of the corridor, Shiro froze as he realised Lance’s leg had been replaced, and Coran’s Altean curses blared out of their helmets.

Taking the moment of distraction as his cue to leave, Lotor scooped up Lance completely.

“Well I need my little translator so I’m going to leave you boys to it” he said.

Just before turning to help Matt, Hunk made eye contact with Lance one last time and impossibly over the noise, before he tucked his face into the crook of Lotor’s neck, heard Lance whisper.

“Matame”

Lotor ran.

Keith and Shiro chased.

#####

They tried a healing pod.

It didn’t work.

The real damage wasn’t physical.

It didn’t heal.

They put him in a cyropod.

So that, maybe, if they ever get back to Earth in time, while Lance’s family are still alive…

He can see them again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hunk: "Hello Lance, my name is Hunk and I love you lots" (casual love tho 'te amo' would be romantic i think)  
> Lance: "Hello, I want to leave"  
> Hunk: "What do you want?"  
> Lance then says 'I want' in Galran and Lotor replies with "I want? So selfish and rude" Then "At least I understand you, I know you don't mean to be rude"  
> The last thing Lance Lance says: "Kill me"
> 
> They rescue Lance and Keith kicks the shit out of Lotor but it's too late.


End file.
